


The Middle of Nowhere, Scotland

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, I'll tell you" - Zayn volunteers, tone calmer now, but still not back to normal, - "You come to Scotland to justify how miserable you feel. You have it all back in England and could have even more if you wanted, but it doesn't go along with how you feel deep inside. So you come here to have that artificial reason for feeling the way that you do. You sure as hell don't come here to visit me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Middle of Nowhere, Scotland

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the real people or the fictional characters that I based off the real people. My work is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money off it.
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed and not judged. I do not mean to offend anyone.
> 
> My description of any geographical places is not necessarily accurate.
> 
> This piece is a bit strange, but then, life sometimes is quite a bit stranger than fiction. It's set a few years back in time. Thanks a lot.

"Well, not a lot changes in this place in a year's time. But I hope you enjoy your visit nonetheless" - the woman notes, getting up and propelling her large suitcase into the aisle.

"It was lovely to talk to you" - Louis retorts, nodding with his eyelids, - "wait a second" - she stops as he reaches into his trousers pocket for a wallet, opens it and pulls out one of his business cards, - "that's for if you ever need a solicitor. Not that I hope that you would."

"Thank you" - she takes and looks at it momentarily before pointing with her head at his still open wallet, - "that's a lovely picture you got there."

Louis nods.

"Well so long. Maybe we will meet again sometime" - she smiles one last time before turning to proceed down the aisle.

Louis closes his eyes.

 

****

 

In an hour's time he is sitting in the passenger seat of Zayn's old must-smelling car and looking out of the window. They are passing endless little houses, grey and dilapidated, still, lifeless, looking abandoned under a cloud-clad sky. Dirty road is exploding with filthy splashes as they ride through the puddles, jump and shake on rocks and Louis' head hits the window once in awhile. The rain drops make uneven tracks on the dirty glass and Louis traces them from the inside with his finger. Zayn's eyes are trained on the road and he's smoking with the window closed. Both of them are silent the entire way, and Louis falls asleep just like that, head bobbing between the headrest and the window.

 

*****

 

Three hours and a tasteless meal in Zayn's small run-down kitchen later, they are demonstrating their identity cards to the security bloke at the bar and Zayn points into Louis' wallet with a chuckle:

"You carry that thing in your wallet now?"

"Yeah" - Louis replies, stuffing the card back with others, and tracing his finger over the picture under the plastic cover, - "looks good, doesn't it? I mean it's as good as it gets for a scanned copy."

"A scanned, minimized, and retouched copy" - Zayn corrects as they enter, - "that's why it turned out so well. Would have been blurry in full size." 

Louis nods as they walk over to the bar. It's still quite empty and the night is quite young.

"Why are you so attached to it anyway?" - Zayn wonders plopping unto an unsteady bar stool with a ripped leather cover, - "I really don't get it. People carry portraits of their loved ones in their wallets, not a random landscape picture. And fine if it were a picture from home... but it was taken in Scotland, wasn't it? And we're in Scotland now, so what's the point?"

"I don't know where it was taken" - Louis retorts not looking at his conversation partner, - "I can only assume it was taken in Scotland."

"Technology nowadays..." - Zayn shakes his head after awhile, - "Fifteen years ago, who would have guessed we would be able to do this?"

Louis nods and they fall silent again. 

"I like that one" - an hour later Zayn points into the crowd that's starting to gather, - "what do you think?"

"He's fine" - Louis retorts without looking up from his drink.

Zayn pauses for a couple minutes just sipping at his beer before turning to Louis and starting again:

"So will you be like this all night then?"

"Fuck off" - Louis says apathetically, eyes trained on his empty glass, - "you want that guy, so go get him. You know he'd be a fool not to want you back."

Zayn places the beer bottle on the table:

"There's plenty of guys who want you too, Louis."

"There are" - Louis agrees, - "Until they find out."

"It's not the end of the world, Loui..."

"It's easy for you to say" - Louis snaps and they fall silent again.

"How's your T cell count?" - Zayn asks cautiously a few minutes later.

"Good. Stable. I'm undetectable" - Louis nods, motioning to the bartender for a refill.

"See? I told you, it's not all bad, you just..."

"No, Zayn, stop" - Louis turns to him, raising his voice, - "I really don't need to hear this speech, if you think that I'm looking for pity, it's not..."

"I don't think *you* know what you're looking for" - Zayn interrupts, speaking a bit louder and faster than usual, - "Why do you come here, Louis? What are you looking for when you come out all this way?"

Louis silently nods at the bartender, receiving a re-filled glass.

"Okay, I'll tell you" - Zayn volunteers, tone calmer now, but still not back to normal, - "You come to Scotland to justify how miserable you feel. You have it all back in England and could have even more if you wanted, but it doesn't go along with how you feel deep inside. So you come here to have that artificial reason for feeling the way that you do. You sure as hell don't come here to visit me."

"Ah no?" - Louis snaps turning to him with his whole body, - "So why do you let me come over and mope all over you if that's all that I'm doing, you think?"

"Because.." - Zayn starts uncertainly and deflates.

"Because I'm sick and you aren't?" - Louis seethes, spitting saliva, -"To remind yourself that it really *can* be worse than how it is for you, Zayn? You live in the middle of nowhere in fucking Scotland, you have a job that you hate, a house that's ready to fall apart and a fucked-up open relationship that you just don't have the balls to quit, but at least you aren't sick?"

Zayn looks at him silently, wide eyed and blinking.

"That's what I thought, Zayn, so don't question it" - Louis returns his gaze to his drink, - "It is what it is."

 

*****

 

A couple of hours later Louis is slammed into the toilet wall, one hand firm on his neck, the other undoing his belt. He breathes heavily, but pushes back, turning his face to the lad:

"Wait.... wait, we have to... I gotta... "

The lad has his trousers down already, exploding in rugged breaths. He smells of sweat and alcohol, he's got short slimy hair and big crooked teeth. Louis fishes for his wallet and opens it up.

"I'm not a hustler, mate" - the lad blurts, barking out a laughter.

"That's not what I'm looking for" - Louis does not offer him a glance, fumbling through the cash compartment, - "Fuck, I carry them in here... where..."

"Nice picture mate" - the lad boldly peeks into Louis' wallet, swaying forward and nearly collapsing on top of him, - "Where'd you take that one, eh?"

"Came with the wallet, standard" - Louis retorts and lightly pushes the lad away, - "You have any?"

"Nope" - he burps alcohol fumes into Louis' face, - "Oh who the fuck cares, I'm clean, let's just do it."

"Like hell you are" - Louis mumbles, pushing him away more forcefully this time, - "Sorry mate, guess it's not gonna happen for us tonight."

"Oh whatever" - the lad grabs with his hands onto Louis' shoulders, pressing him into the toilet wall again, - "told you I'm clean, stop being a pussy."

Louis attempts to undo the bloke's grip on his shoulder, feeling his slimy lips and crooked teeth biting his neck, makes a strained little noise and blurts:

"I'm positive."

"Whatever" - the bloke latches onto him with more force, starting to lick at his cheek, - "You so wanted it too, so don't start with me..."

"I have HIV, you arsehole" - Louis shrieks at that point, pushing with all his might and the lad stumbles back, hiccups, blinks his red, watery eyes, opens his mouth, closes it, then spits onto Louis' shirt.

"You fucking filth" - he screeches as he pulls up his trousers, undoes the latch on the toilet door with unsteady fingers and stumbles out of the loo. Louis sits on top of the toilet and buries his face in his hands. 

 

****

 

 

When he exits the loo, the bar is nearly empty, just one couple snogging in the corner and a curly-haired lad in a suit jacket sitting at the bar. Zayn was gone earlier in the night, yelping Louis' name from the other end of the bar and motioning to a tall, athletic bloke already opening the door to exit and Louis just nodding in agreement. They come in together, but they rarely leave this way. In the worst case scenario, Louis takes a taxi to the nearest motel. Money is not a problem, so might as well.

Louis proceeds to sit next to the curly-haired lad, who offers him a tranquil look with his big green eyes. 

"Gimme some tequila" - Louis nods at the bartender and the curly lad pushes his own glass at him with the back of his hand. Louis gives him a little look, but chugs it without questions. It's rum and coke, by the looks of it, but Louis barely registers the taste. The bartender puts a shot glass of tequila in front of him and Louis chugs that one as well.

"Not going too well" - the curly lad states more than asks after Louis is done crinkling his nose and squinting his eyes.

"Nah..." - Louis exhales and blinks. - "And you? Why aren't you drinking?"

"Gotta drive back" 

"And so..." - here Louis half-snorts half-hiccups, - "why do you come here at all then? Or do you pick them up sober?"

"Not too many you can pick up, when you're" - the lad waives his hand around and looks Louis straight in the eye which makes him sway back in his chair and widen his eyes in genuine surprise, - "I just don't want to stay home. There's not much to do here, in this area. All the nicer places close down early."

"That's true" - Louis twists an empty glass in his hand, - "in London we have loadsa places open all night long..."

"You're from London?" - the curly lad interrupts, green eyes big, - "What are you doing in a place like this?"

"Uh...yeah... not so much *from* London, I live there now... and here... just visiting... a mate... you know?"

The curly lad nods. Louis winces:

"Ugh, the fucking alcohol... so harsh on my insides... and your name was..."

"Harry" - the lad volunteers and offers him his hand.

"Lou.." - Louis hiccups, -"...eeh. Louis. N-nice to... meet you."

They shake hands. 

"You too" - Harry says and smiles. His teeth are white and his lips are plump. And he's got dimples. So Louis smiles too.

"I'm gonna close down in about five" - the bartender notes, continuing to wipe down the counters.

"Fuck..." - Louis exhales, fumbling for his phone, - "I'm gonna... a sec, I'm gonna ring a taxi..."

"You'll have to wait for it forever, you know" - Harry says gently, scooting Louis' empty glassware closer to the bartender.

"I know..." - Louis inhales sharply, punching at the numbers, - "I've done this a few times before..."

"Uh.... I'll give you a lift" - Harry says then and Louis looks at him, blinking, - "uh... where do you... where are you staying?"

"At Zayn's..." - Louis blurts and barks out a laughter, - "Sorry, it's just by the... fuuck..."

"What?"

"D-don't know" - Louis stammers, - "He might have someone over tonight... and so might his boyfriend.. the house is not that big, so I..." - noting Harry's wide eyes, Louis laughs loudly again, - "It's a fucked up situation, don't ask... I don't know how they... I'll get a motel."

"I don't know where a motel.... come on now, he wants us to leave" - Harry nods at the bartender.

"One sec" - Louis fumbles for his wallet and almost sways off the chair, then searches for the bills, - "Here you go, keep the rest." 

"Cheers." - the bartender nods.

"Come on then... what?" - Louis notices Harry staring at the picture in his wallet, - "ahhh... this one... everyone asks about that... it's just a pretty picture."

"Very" - Harry replies not looking away, - "But.... most people carry pictures of .... uh... did you take it?"

"No" - Louis laughs and closes his wallet, - "I found it. Well, not this one, I found a much bigger one at this resort thing we used to stay at when I was a kid.... and I just... it's the most beautiful fucking photo... hkkk.... I've seen in my life... so I kept it... and..... uh... yeah, that.... that was like... long time ago... long long time.... then I made this copy here... so I can carry it with me... wherever I go...."

"A random picture? A random picture you've found at a resort?"

"So what?" - Louis blinks his watery eyes, - "I've never seen anything like it... I just wish I could visit this place... where it was taken I mean... or maybe live there... wherever that is.... I'd really like to do that..."

Harry nods and shakes his head slightly, then tugs on Louis' sleeve:

"Come on. We've got to go."

"You got 'im? Alright then" - the bartender waives a rug at them.

Hand around Louis' shoulders, Harry pulls him out of the bar. Cold air stings at Louis' eyes and rare drops of rain fall on his forehead. He shakes his head with force. Out of the stuffy bar, he catches a whiff of Harry's cologne and follows the smell, leaning his head onto Harry's shoulder and touching his nose to his neck. Harry doesn't move away, but instead hooks his arm securely around Louis' waist and they walk gingerly to the car.

Harry's car is actually an older truck and he opens the passenger side door and helps Louis climb in, the latter's movement becoming more sure and fluid now that they've been out in cold midnight air and it's also chilly inside the truck. Louis shivers as Harry slams his door shut and proceeds to climb in on his own side. 

They sit in silence for a second as Harry fastens his seatbelt. He inhales then turns to Louis sharply:

"How's this mate? Finding you a motel means driving out into town... and I'd really... I'd rather take you to mine tonight and tomorrow I'll drive you over to your mate... I'm a little... I know the road home with my eyes closed, but going to town... you don't mind staying at mine, do ya? It's only me and my Dad, we've got plenty of space..."

Louis takes all of that in and waggles his eyebrows.

"Well ffff..." - Harry turns away, attempting to hide a sheepish smile, - "we don't have to do *that* if you... look I'm just trying to be..."

"It's fine" - Louis responds smugly and settles comfortably in his seat, - "we can go to yours and I can take a taxi tomorrow."

"It's a bit of a drive" - Harry warns as he starts the engine and the windshield wipers.

Louis nods and they drive for a bit in silence. 

 

****

 

"...but you're not Scottish though?" - Louis asks, - "It's just your accent... I couldn't quite...."

"Yes and no" - Harry smiles, - "My parents are English and my mother lives in Holmes Chapel.. that's in Cheshire... my father however, moved over here, to Scotland, after they divorced, so soon I moved in with him. So I assimilated of course... well, how could you not? I've never exactly been outside of Scotland save for going to see my mother every summer... and... well, but what about you? Sounds like you have a far more exciting story to tell."

"W-what's to tell" - Louis exhales, - "I was born in Doncaster, went to school there, went to uni in Manchester, then settled in London. I mean, I've travelled through continental Europe, but not like it's like..."

"And London? How is it in London? It must be exciting to live right in the capital..."

"Well" - Louis says and shakes his head, - "I don't know what kind of an answer you want to hear.... it's just..."

"The truth" - Harry says suddenly quickly and in a very quiet and serious tone, and Louis nods.

"Well, the truth is... it's.... it's... very... how to tell you? Shallow. Boring. It's not exactly how you might imagine it, having never been there... it's just... "

"Well, the nightlife got to be better than here..."

"And so?" - Louis interrupts impatiently, - "I get these reactions all the time, anytime I travel outside of London. Things to do, things to see, people to meet. Well, I've done it all, seen it all and fucked them all."

Harry raises his eyebrows.

"And I think there's just no sense in it" - Louis continues in his raised voice.

"And you come to Kirkcaldy looking for sense?"

"No, I..."

"Well, you could move to a different place if you don't like London."

"Yeah, I could, actually, it's not the place, it's..." - he stops and frowns his eyebrows, - "this is not exactly the usual small talk."

"I'm not a small talk person" - Harry blurts, then adds immediately, quieter, - "Sorry."

Louis looks at him, blinks once, twice then barks out a laughter. Harry deflates and snorts sheepishly at the wheel. 

"You're different" - Louis offers gently and smiles, then looks away, - "I like people who are honest like that."

"Yeah, I..." - Harry hesitates, - "My mother says I'm very blunt sometimes... it makes it hard... I don't... do you... have... a lot of mates in London?"

"I have some, yeah... I don't know, I just..."

"Fine, let's not. Tell me about some of these places you visited."

Louis does. He tells him about Spain, Italy, France, Cyprus, Germany, Holland and his favourite, Belgium.

"It's nice" - Louis says, - "All of them are nice. I'm not too big on museums and such... and I don't know... I suppose I might like to see America, or Japan or some of these Latin American countries maybe... just.... you know, depending on.... how long I have left..." - he waives his hand, looking at Harry, and Harry looks him straight in the eye and nods silently before turning back to look at the road.

"What is your.... if you don't mind....?"

"It's fine. Close to normal. I'm not taking any meds yet."

Harry nods again and switches the topic:

"What is your job?"

"I'm a solicitor" - Louis responds, - "I've been at the same firm since graduating. Do most of my work from home... It's... well, I don't know, it's nothing too exciting... and you?"

"I'm a mechanic... With my Dad, we have a sort of a private shop. It's not too bad really, I rather like it. Sometimes we have these older cars that are probably considered antique by now... they are really beautiful" - he smiles to himself, eyes on the road, - "We've had a couple people bring us some for restoration... and that was my favourite thing to do... just watch these good-for-nothing ruins come to life... fascinating..."

"You talk about it like it's art..."

"Well it is" - Harry notes ardently, - "Or it is to me. Art is what I studied at uni and..."

"You went to university?" - Louis raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, at Glasgow" - Harry agrees.

"What are you still doing here?"

"I couldn't find a job" - Harry explains softly, - "So I came back to Kirkcaldy and started helping my Dad. Just doing what I can..." - he smiles.

Louis nods.

"Do you come to Scotland often?" - Harry asks after a little while.

"Sometimes" - Louis responds, - "I have a friend here. I know him since childhood, he moved here about eight years ago. He hates it. Uh... well, when I was little we used to come nearly every year. There was a tiny cottage up in the north somewhere. We used to rent it almost every summer, for a couple weeks. I don't know" - he smiles, - "when I was really little, I think I played with the owner's son sometimes or something, I don't really remember, then later I played videogames or with my sisters, or at the sea... there was also this lighthouse... right by the cottage. So I don't know, I think those were some of my favourite memories. And that's where I found the photograph. You know the one, like the little one you saw in my wallet? The original was one of that older kind, you know the ones developed from film?"

"You found it at the lighthouse?"

"No, at the cottage. The lighthouse was locked by then I think, it was automated. I found it in the dresser in the room I stayed in. Maybe the previous renters or the owners left it there... Actually there were a whole bunch, I just took one. I thought they wouldn't mind. "

"I'm sure... they didn't" - Harry exhales.

"And that was the last summer we went there. I was about eighteen-nineteen maybe, I think? We never went back. I was busy with uni, and this and that..."

"Would you like to go back there?"

"To the cottage? Yes... Well...I don't know... that was a part of my life where..." - he sighs, - "where... things could still happen, Harry, everything was still ahead of me, my whole life, all these choices and now..."

"And now?"

"And now... all the decisions were made... and... and...well I am stuck with this boring job and this thing, you know, and now I'm just... "

"Do you regret?"

"Regret? What, studying law? Getting HIV? Pushing everyone away and ending up alone? Or just... becoming what I now am? Yes, of course I do. Every day I think about how life could be different if only I..."

"Well, don't."

"Don't what?" - Louis turns to him with his whole body, eyes trained on Harry's face, barely blinking. Whatever effect alcohol had on his brain at the beginning of their meeting is completely gone. 

"Don't regret" - Harry responds quietly.

"How can I not, Harry?" - Louis yelps in a high pitched voice, - "I have one of the worst sicknesses you can get, I constantly have to keep it in mind when planning what I do with my life and..."

"I just think that.... everything that happens, happens for a reason and..."

"Oh don't start with me with that deterministic crap" - Louis cuts him off, blood rushing to his face, - "All these weak attempts to justify shit and make it seem fair somehow and ... just... all in order to make your life more palatable are just pathetic..."

"You can't always understand why things happen to you, but when you look at the big picture, you..."

"And my HIV fits into your picture how, Harry? Me dying in the next ten years will do exactly what for...?"

"Okay" - Harry frowns his brows and makes a jerky motion with his hands, steering the truck to the side of the road.

"What are you doing?" - Louis shrieks, thrown roughly into the side of the truck.

"I'll tell you" - Harry parks the car and sits still, looking ahead, - "You will not die in the next ten years. For God's sake, Louis, you are not even taking any meds! I, on the other hand, am already resistant to two anti-retrovirals and that means I'm on the second to last of the available treatment options. And I don't know about you, but for me, it was one time, just one time it happened without protection and that was the time I got it. And I could really spend the rest of my life crying over that one decision, but I am not going to do it!"

Louis gapes, barely breathing.

"Don't" - Harry says much softer, turning to him and noticing his expression, - "I'm not... I'm fine. My numbers have been very good with this one and I have no symptoms at all. I just want you to think... to consider it... and..." - he takes a deep breath and continues, - "back when I was in my last year of secondary school... there was a scholarship I could get... to help me pay for this one college in America. If I had gotten in, I've no idea where I would be now... but most likely not here.... not in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of fucking Kirkcaldy, Scotland... but I don't think about that. I think I was meant to be here and now and... "

"Why... why didn't you go... to America?"

"It's... there... it was an art scholarship of sorts... we were supposed to submit drawings, photographs, or what have you... if I didn't get it, I couldn't afford tuition." - He looks Louis straight in the eye and his breath hitches audibly in his throat before he exhales it and starts again, voice trembling, - "I planned to send in the pictures I've been taking since I was a boy at my father's cabin up in Wick and... all my pictures... my negatives... everything... has been destroyed in the fire... in August of '97..."

"Uh" - Louis chokes.

"That cottage burned down. Almost completely. I... I... took my pictures and negatives with me everywhere we went but that summer, that May, we left in a hurry and I accidentally left them in Wick before the renters' season. I left them in the top drawer of the dresser in my bedroom... the last renters caused the fire and... and... and that..."

But Louis interrupts him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and hurling him headfirst into his own chest, Harry's hands clutching forcefully at his back, breath rugged and hitching. Louis nuzzles his face into Harry's shoulder, wiping his own eyes roughly on his suit jacket. They stay together like this for a few seconds.

"Please" - Louis says eventually, but he doesn't know what he is begging Harry for. Harry turns his face and ghosts his nose along the side of Louis' neck gently before pulling away. He wipes his hand roughly over his face and continues:

"And I cannot tell you why... cannot explain to you all the things that.... happen to us, but tonight I... "- he shakes his head and rests his face in his palm, inhaling rapidly.

"Please" - Louis whispers again and then starts digging frantically for his wallet, fingers trembling, and it takes him a great deal of effort to slide a tiny photocopy out of its protecting sleeve and place it gently into Harry's shaking hand, - "Tell me, where did you take it? Harry, I've always wanted to see this place... I... I always thought... whoever took it could see the beauty the way I never would and... if only..."

Harry smiles, his face glistening in the dim light as he looks at the miniature landscape:

"You've surely seen it, Louis. I took it from the top of that lighthouse. It's just the neighbouring lands and...."

Louis stares at him, wide-eyed.

"But h-how?" - Louis gapes, heart pounding so hard that it makes his jacket tremble, - "How could I not recognize it...? I've been there so many times..."

"I told you, Louis" - Harry smiles again, turning his gaze back to Louis' eyes, - "when you're this close, you can't see the big picture. From the top of the lighthouse, I could see everything."

They sit in silence for a few more seconds, Harry looking at the tiny paper, Louis looking at Harry. 

"I haven't been back since the fire happened. Just last week, though, I drove up to see if the house could be restored..."

"And?" - Louis interrupts eagerly and nearly jumps in his seat.

"I don't know... I don't know if I have it left in me... to do this... it's quite a big thing..."

"But what if you... " - Louis offers quietly after awhile, - "what if you didn't have to do it alone?"

"I don't know, Louis" - Harry says, looking him straight in the eye, - "A job like that requires a lot of effort. And... though I know a bit about restoring... I don't know much about this particular house yet... It sounds like... it sounds like it could be... just... the project I've been looking for, but... There are a lot of uncertainties... and many things could go awry. And we... it would be building the house essentially from scratch."

"Not from scratch" - Louis shakes his head, - "It would be building it from memory. From the memory that belongs to both of us. I mean, sure there are a lot of details... that... need to be worked out... but... isn't... wouldn't it be... worth it?"

"I don't think I've heard you sounding so excited before" - Harry coos with a smile.

"I don't think I have been this excited about something before... I know it sounds rushed, insane and crazy..."

"Well, I could use a little craziness in my life... because the way things are here, in The Middle Of Nowhere, Scotland, I..."

"So that is a "yes" then?" - Louis asks with a tiny smile.

Harry starts the engine and rolls the truck slowly back onto the road, before taking one hand off the wheel and entwining it with Louis':

"Well, we will certainly need to talk more about it... get to know... the project... but for all intents and purposes... yes, then, I guess, it's a "yes."


End file.
